


fix my eyes (on you)

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The letter shows up on his left wrist when David is thirteen, a capital ‘D’ in looping black cursive.</i> Soulmark!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	fix my eyes (on you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of cookleta fic I’ve written and finished since 2011. Wowza. I’m a little rusty, but I hope to get back into the swing of things starting with this little not-drabble (why am I incapable of writing anything short??) For smellofstorms, who requested the following prompt: name on wrist and dealing with having the same first name.
> 
> Though I really love the idea, I know next to nothing about the “soul mark” fic trope, so I made shit up. Yay for creative liberties!
> 
> (Also I seriously had to reeducate myself on Idol season 7, which is hilarious and also all kinds of shameful. If I screwed up with events time-wise please let me know!)

The letter shows up on his left wrist when David is thirteen, a capital ‘D’ in looping black cursive. His parents are thrilled when he shows it to them, his mother teary-eyed and his father smiling in this really proud way and David feels good, like he’s done something right, even though he’s not entirely sure how the whole thing is supposed to work. 

They call them “soul marks” at school, a phenomenon that occurs within a small percentage of the world’s population. Some people are born with a name on their skin, some appear after a person reaches puberty, sometimes the mark takes months to fade in entirely, and sometimes it doesn’t take long at all. No one really seems to know _why_.

Both of his parents and his older sister are unmarked. David never thought it would happen to him.

Kids at school ask him a ton of questions when they see it. _What’s it stand for? Do you know who it is? Where’s the rest of it?_ David doesn’t know how to answer any of them. He just stares at his wrist and the letter curling over his pulse, wondering if there really is another person out there who’s meant just for him. 

-

In two months an ‘a’ joins the ‘D.’ 

“Danielle, maybe?” his father says, studying David’s wrist. “Daina, Da…. Hmm. What do you think, David?“

David shrugs and smiles, not saying anything because none of the names his dad suggests ever feel _right_. He wishes the rest of the mark would just appear already. He’s tired of everyone staring at his wrist and asking him what he thinks it’ll say – he doesn’t _know_ , and the longer it takes the more nervous he feels. Like, a part of him is excited, because this thing that’s happening to him doesn’t happen to everybody else. It’s _rare_ , and it’s not a _bad_ thing, and so he should be grateful, and happy, and he is, it’s just… He doesn’t really understand what a soul mate _is_ , not really. He’s never really been interested in a girl, or wanted to take someone out on a date, or whatever. And while the thought of someone being out there that’s meant just for him _is_ exciting , and sometimes he likes to think about what they’ll be like and if they’ll like music (which they have to, he thinks, he _hopes_ they do, anyway, because it’s such a big part of who _he_ is and he can’t imagine getting along with anyone who doesn’t like it), it’s still scary.

And it’s almost like his family and friends and teachers and everyone else who looks at his wrist are waiting for this big revelation, and David’s so afraid that he’s going to… he doesn’t know, disappoint people? Even though the entire thing is out of his control and there’s nothing he can do to change the marks on his skin, he still feels weirdly anxious about the whole thing.

But then the ‘v’ appears after only a few weeks, and then an ‘i,’ and that’s when David starts hiding his mark completely.

-

He goes a week without looking at it, even though the wrist band he’d bought makes his skin itchy and uncomfortable. He hides in the bathroom one night before he takes it off, staring at the newly formed ‘d’ that completes the name – _his_ name – and rubbing at the mark until he feels tears in his eyes, because how is he supposed to show this to his mom, or his dad, or to anybody at school? Because while it’s _his_ name, in more ways than one, it’s also a _boy’s_ name.

The decision’s out of his hands when his mother comes in to check on him. He shows her his wrist and waits, terrified that he’s done something wrong, but all Lupe does is wrap her arms around him and tell him, “It’s alright, mijo. We’re all so proud of you. Everything is alright.”

His dad doesn’t like it, David can tell, just from the way Jeff looks at him sometimes, like he’s disappointed, and some kids at school call him names that he doesn’t understand and that he doesn’t look up because he knows it’ll just make him feel bad, but his mom smiles at him and tells him how funny it is that his soul mate has the same name, how it must be fate, and Claudia wonders what they’re supposed to call each other once they _do_ meet, and grins when he says they’ll just have to have nicknames, and things are _okay_.

-

 _American Idol_ is the single most terrifying, exciting thing he’s ever done, and at sixteen – almost seventeen! – he constantly feels like a kid around all of these older, amazing, talented people. Hollywood Week is a blur of song arrangements, anxiety, and nervous anticipation, so much so that there’s no time to pay any attention to the fact that he’s not the only David there.

Not until he’s accepted into the Top 24 anyway – and he still can’t believe that, still can’t believe he’s _made it_ – and suddenly it’s like, oh, there are three of us.

It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. David is a pretty common name, and the past three years have tempered any fear or excitement he might feel about his mark. He’s met plenty of other Davids and nothing’s ever happened, he’d never felt anything and never thought to ask if his name – their name – was on their skin.

He hides his mark beneath the band of a watch or a wrist band most days, especially once he goes to Hollywood. His dad, who comes along to look after him, tells him not to talk about it. Easy to do, David thinks a little meanly, when his dad won’t talk about it at all.

It used to make him sad that his dad didn’t seem so happy about his mark anymore. He always felt like – and okay, he still feels like it sometimes – that Jeff was disappointed in him. David remembers how proud his dad had been, when the ‘D’ had first appeared, and how silent he’s been about it ever since he saw the full name. 

David’s still not entirely sure about who he is, if he even likes boys at all, or girls, or what he wants in a partner – other than a love of music, at least – and so he’s not really trying very hard? He doesn’t scour a crowd for a hint of his name on someone’s wrist, doesn’t ask when he does come across another David if they’ll show him their mark, if they have one. He doesn’t even know what he’d do if he _did_ find his mark mate, to be honest.

So he focuses on music, and the craziness that is _American Idol_ , and he doesn’t spare much thought for the other Davids at all.

-

Week by week the number of contestants dwindle down, from twenty-four to eighteen to twelve. 

The night David Hernandez goes home they all gather in a restaurant nearby for a going away dinner. For once Jeff isn’t there, so it’s just David and the other Idols. They all go around saying goodbye and good luck and the atmosphere is happy and relaxed, even though David H. looks a little disappointed when no one is looking (not that David blames him, because as terrifying and exhausting as this competition can be, he doesn’t ever want to have to leave, not before it’s over).

As they’re walking back, Carly (who’s amazing and Irish and also a little intimidating?) says, “And then there were two.”

David kind of stares at her funny until it hits him, just as David Cook lets out a barking laugh.

“That wasn’t ominous or anything, Smithson,” he says. He throws an arm around David’s shoulder and grins at the expression on his face. “Besides, you better get used to it, right, Archie? We’re not going anywhere.”

“That’s right,” David says, a lot more confidently than he feels, and Cook grins again and lets him go. 

David doesn’t quite know what to make of David Cook. He was a little intimidated by the man at first, with his scruffy hair, tattoos and rocker persona (not to mention his _voice_ , which was gravely and deep and um, yeah, really incredible), at least until he had sat beside David one night at dinner and proceeded to tell him these absolutely _horrible_ jokes, like, really corny ones that weren’t even funny but always made David laugh anyway, just because Cook always looked so earnest and eager when he told them.

So yeah, Cook is kind of a huge dork, and also really nice, and he always tries to include David in the group and doesn’t treat him like he’s so much younger than everyone else (not that the others do it on purpose or anything, but it does happen). He’s the one that started the whole “Archie” thing, too, claiming they both needed nicknames so having multiple Davids wouldn’t be so confusing. 

So now everyone calls him Archie, and the older man Cook, and David tries not to think too much about how much he likes it.

-

Sometimes David stares at Cook’s wrists. Not on purpose or anything, just. His mind wanders, that’s all. Cook always wears these really cool leather bracelets, thick strips of black that wrap around both of his wrists. David can’t actually remember ever having seen Cook without them, or ever seeing his wrists bare at all. Sometimes he wonders about it.

Brooke, who has become something like his best friend on the show, has a mark on her shoulder. The name ‘David’ curves just under her neck (which is seriously bizarre, David feels like he’ll _never_ escape his name). They talk about it late one night, both of them sitting in the kitchen and munching on cereal.

“How do you know?” David asks. “I mean, when you meet them?”

“Oh, you don’t,” Brooke says, smiling. “When I met Dave, it wasn’t like love at first sight. I didn’t really think anything of it, you know? David’s such a common name, after all.”

“Tell me about it,” David says, exasperated, and Brooke laughs.

“We got to know each other first, hung out a few times. Brooke’s a pretty common name, too, so we didn’t go into it thinking we’d found our mark mates, not at first.” Her smile turns soft and sweet, and David feels a peculiar tug in his chest, something like envy.

“But you figured it out?” he prompts, and Brooke laughs, nods her head.

“We did. Listen, David. It’s not so much about the mark, you know? I mean, some people see it as proof that a couple should be together, but I think of it more as… as a guideline. It’s what lead us to each other, sure, but it took both of us to make it work.”

David nods, not putting voice to the thought that still plagues him sometimes, nights when he looks at his bare wrist in the dark, the stark lines of his name curling against his pulse, and wonders what will happen if he never finds the other David, or if he does find him, and never even knows it.

“Don’t worry about it so much,” Brooke tells him, seeing the expression on his face for what it is. “It’ll happen, just give it time. Until then, keep living your life, working towards your dreams. That’s what we’re all here for, right?”

David nods, smiles. “Right.”

-

It gets harder – so much harder – as the weeks go on, not only to stand out above the rest, to stay, but to watch other people go.

Brooke’s leaving hits him hardest. She hugs him tight after her farewell dinner, tells him to “keep going, David, you’re gonna be great, okay?” and she stares at him for a long time, at the other contestants too, and especially at Cook, and then she hugs him even harder and wishes him luck.

After she leaves the Idol mansion seems even larger. It’s just the four of them now – him, Cook, Jason, and Syesha. It feels weird without everyone else there, Michael and Carly and all the others. 

He spends a lot of time with Cook, hanging out between promotional gigs and practice sessions. At first his dad hadn't liked it, and though he'd never come out and given David a good reason why, David could guess. But there's nothing wrong with him and Cook hanging out, and his dad has to start letting him make his own decisions, so. 

More often than not they just end up in the huge living room with popcorn and a movie. Sometimes they sit and talk instead, about their families and music, mostly, and about the competition, with Cook telling him all the time that “You’re going to win this thing, Arch,” with such conviction that even David starts to believe him.

“I totally voted for you, you know,” Cook says one night, strumming gently at the guitar propped in his lap. David gapes at him from the other end of the couch, the novel he’s supposed to be reading for school – and can’t pay any attention to at all, not with Cook lounging on the couch with him and playing all of these really cool guitar riffs, it’s totally distracting! – hanging loose from his fingers.

“You what?” he stutters, and he must have a ridiculous expression on his face because Cook throws back his head and laughs. 

And, okay, David kind of loves Cook’s laugh, like, a _lot_. It’s warm and full and his whole body moves when he does it, his eyes all bright and happy and, um. It’s just a really nice sound.

“Why is that so surprising?” Cook asks once his laughter has died down, grinning at David’s “well, duh” look. “You’re amazing, Archie. ‘Course I’m gonna vote for you.”

And David’s heard that a lot, that he’s amazing, that he has an incredible voice, and it’s… He knows he’s a good singer, okay, but to have someone like Cook tell him that, instead of his parents or reporters or even the other Idols, is… Well, clearly it’s made him a bit awestruck if he can’t even get a coherent sentence out. 

“T-thank you, Cook,” he says, finally, and knows without even needing to look in a mirror that he’s blushing.

“No prob, Archie,” Cook tells him, smiling in this really fond way, and David feels his heart sort of squeeze, a weird but really nice feeling and _Oh_ , he thinks, rubbing his chest. _I’m in trouble._

-

Sometimes David catches Cook looking at him. Not in a weird way or anything, just… contemplating, like David is this huge mystery Cook’s trying to figure out. Whenever he catches Cook at it, when they’re both in the studio or at breakfast or even while they’re watching a movie, David will ask, “What?” and Cook will always shrug and turn away, saying “Oh, nothing, Arch,” which, okay. David’s not stupid, he knows when someone is looking at him and Cook is definitely doing it, so.

He doesn’t think much of it, especially after Syesha goes home and it’s just the two of them in the Idol mansion (the _final_ two, and David still doesn’t know how he made it this far and it’s crazy and exciting and he’s so happy that Cook’s here with him). There’s no one else to look at, so Cook staring at him isn’t really much of an issue. 

What is an issue is the way David stares _back_. Whenever he catches himself at it he’ll flinch and turn away, hiding his suddenly flushed face and wondering what the heck is wrong with him. This little… thing (he refuses to use the word crush, even though once he’d told Brooke that’s exactly the word she’d used) he has for Cook is seriously getting out of hand if his eyes are just, whatever, staring at the man without his consent. 

He thinks it’ll go away once they do the home visit, once he’s away from Cook for a few days. He spends time with his family and his school friends and focuses on just being normal for a while (well, as normal as he can be with cameras and reporters watching him all the time and all of his neighbors and family members wishing him good luck and cheering for him). 

At night, though, when everything’s quiet and he’s lying in bed, David can admit that he _misses_ Cook, that he misses their late-night talks and movie sessions, misses how he can hear Cook humming in the kitchen in the morning, and how the soft, slow notes of his guitar will fill up the whole house and draw David to him, no matter where he is.

He also thinks about the mark on his wrist, and the way his heart seizes up whenever Cook – whenever _David_ – looks at him, and the way Cook’s wrists are always covered, and he _hopes_ , wild and fierce and so hard that it brings tears to his eyes.

-

Ryan calls Cook’s name and the stadium _explodes_. Cook pulls David to his chest and hugs him tightly, tells him in a fierce, rushed whisper that he loves him, and David’s heart pounds, tears burning his eyes and he’s so _proud_ of this man, so happy for him, and he gasps out that he loves Cook, too, of course he does, and he stays tucked against his side as Cook sings, his voice clear and bright and thrumming through David’s body like a bell.

-

The weeks after Idol are crazy, crazier even than the entire competition. David’s so excited about the tour, so excited about seeing everyone again. He hugs Brooke tightly when he sees her, her gentle laughter a balm against his frazzled nerves, and she pulls back and looks at him for a long time, smiling.

“You’ve changed,” she says, her eyes bright. “I told you you’d be great, didn’t I?”

And David laughs, even though he’s not entirely sure what she means; he can’t have changed that much since he last saw her, right? But he catches Cook’s eye across the room where he’s catching up with Michael and Carly and they both grin, and he thinks he understands a little after all.

-

When it happens, it catches David off guard. Well, _Cook_ catches him off guard, but he’s gotten pretty used to that by now.

They’re on the bus, the others snoring in their bunks and the wheels rolling onward toward the next city, Cook scribbling in a notebook and David dozing on the couch beside him when the sound of the pen gliding across the paper stops.

“Hey, Archie?” 

David blinks, rubbing his eyes as he shifts his head against the couch to look at Cook. “Yeah?” he asks sleepily, a yawn breaking through.

Cook looks really serious, and also a little nervous? David shakes away his fatigue and asks if something’s wrong, because usually Cook is this whirlwind of laughter and smiles and goof, seeing him so quiet and serious sets off alarm bells in David’s head.

Cook shakes his head, still staring at him, all intensely and focused and David fights the urge to look away. He’s never been great at the whole eye-contact thing.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” Cook begins, and David notices that he starts fidgeting with one of the leather bands around his left wrist. 

“Okay?” It’s kind of alarming, watching a nervous Cook. 

“Some of the others were talking,” Cook continues, “about, uh. Well, and then Brooke was saying that – Ah, fuck.” Cook rubs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more wildly than usual. “Do you have a soul mark, Archie?”

David kind of jerks in his seat, eyes wide, and just stares at Cook, because no one ever asks him point-blank if he has one, they haven’t released that to any of the press _anywhere_ , not even the Idol producers. It’s not something his parents had wanted splashed all over the pages of some gossip rag, and David had been fine with that, he’d never wanted it out there for the public to ooh and ahh over, or for anyone to start making these wild assumptions. He’d told Brooke because he’d trusted her, and Carly and some of the others, too, and he knew they’d never, like, out him to the press or whatever.

He’d never thought Cook would ask, though.

“You don’t have to tell me, Arch,” Cook says hastily, no doubt reading the expression on his face and thinking he’d crossed a line. “I know it’s a really personal thing to ask and I should probably just mind my own damn business – “

“I do,” David says, and waits.

Cook watches him for what feels like a long time, the bus silent expect for the rumble of the wheels on the highway and faint snores from the guys in their bunks. David starts to feel a little uncomfortable under the intensity of Cook’s gaze, almost like he’s too exposed, but he steels his nerves and doesn’t look away. 

He knows what he wants now. If he can have it.

When he speaks, Cook’s voice is really quiet, raspy and deep. “Can I see?”

David has to swallow really hard before he can get up the nerve to reach for his watch, unclasping the band and letting it fall away from his wrist. He turns his wrist over so that Cook can see it, the slight discoloration where the band had rested and ‘David’ looped in black against his pulse.

He hears Cook draw in a startled breath, feels like he’s set on a hair trigger as the older man reaches for his hand, drawing it closer and pressing warm, calloused fingers to David’s wrist.

He traces the name with blunt nails, sending shivers up David’s arm and down his spine, until all of his fingers and toes are tingling. His mouth goes dry when Cook raises his arm, pulling it up to his face so he can set his lips against David’s wrist.

“C-Cook,” he breathes, his voice strange and breathy in a way he’s never heard before. He can feel his pulse _pounding_. 

Cook stares at him from beneath his lashes, his eyes dark, and David bites his lip, hard, against the sounds that build up in his throat when Cook doesn’t stop. His lips move against David’s skin, catching and dragging wetly along the curves of his name – _their_ name – and David muffles a moan against his free hand, his whole body going all warm and tingly.

When Cook leans back David almost falls forward in his haste to follow, only stopped by Cook’s warm hand against his chest. He nearly sobs when Cook starts pulling at the bands around his wrist – the left – and tossing them haphazardly to the floor. 

“Cook,” David starts, reaching to help him, and then Cook’s wrist is bare and there’s ‘David,’ curling against his pulse, and David presses shaky fingers to the mark, feeling overwhelmed and warm and _happy_ , and he’d be shocked at himself if his head were clearer, the way he presses his smiling mouth to Cook’s wrist, the way he doesn’t back away when Cook kisses him but presses _closer_ , the way he _feels_ , oh gosh, so crazy and desperate and wild, like he’s up in the air and nothing can bring him back down.

-

In the morning the others will find them on the couch, David’s side pressed snugly against Cook’s and his head on Cook’s shoulder. They’ll see the way their hands are clasped, the tangle of their fingers, and – if they look closely – they’ll see the marks on their bare wrists, the way they mirror each other in more than just name. 

But that’s in the morning, David thinks, and clasps Cook's warm hand, and sleeps.


End file.
